Numb
by PenelopeBlack13
Summary: Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter are both suffering. Can a friendship, or more, help them to save each other from pushing away everything positive in their lives? Post-OotP
1. Prologue

A/N- I edited this on July 8th thanks to my wonderful betas, Ailleann and Sydney.  
  
The young person sat up in her bed, sweating incessantly from the unbearable heat of the agonizing summer months. This person, after glancing briefly around her eerily quiet room, heaved one of the most depressing sighs ever heard.

This wasn't right. And it wouldn't change. Maybe because this pretty red-haired girl didn't feel like a person at all. In fact, she didn't feel anything. Just a dull numbness that, if and when she concentrated on enough, made her so chilled that she couldn't remember anymore why on earth she was so sweaty. Nothing could take this horribly numb feeling away. She had tried everything; Quidditch, revising an insane amount, making new, exciting friends; heck, she had even tried dating a few random boys that would, and did, make any other normal girl's heart swoon giddily.

But, no, happiness didn't seem to ever want to enter Ginny Weasley's life again. Not even sadness, anger, or disappointment came to her anymore. The only thing that came even close was an empty tiredness that continually made her even more exhausted. This feeling didn't come from any sort of lack of sleep. Instead, she felt tired of everything imaginable in her life. The dreadful school year coming up, all of her superficial, shallow friends at Hogwarts, her brothers, daily doing multiple, small things that, for some reason, sent her dangerously close to the borderline of insanity. The very same things the Ginny had tried to take away the numbness were the same things that she was so very tired of. Not to mention her parents, who were always fretting about her safety. the fact that her family was dirt poor didn't really help the matter either. Last, but most definitely not least, were her brother's two best friends, whom Ginny had spent a fair amount of time with over the last several years. The very same things the Ginny had tried to take away the numbness were the same things that she was so very tired of.   
  
It seemed to Ginny that her bushy-haired friend, Hermione, just couldn't keep her nose out of other people's business. _And now it's finally starting to catch up with her_, Ginny thought with a smirk. Immediately she felt a wave of guilt hit her. Hermione was her friend. She had been there for Ginny many times, trying to make the younger girl feel better. There it was again. All this talk about feelings. What was so great about them anyway? Ginny had repeatedly tried to convince herself that she actually believed that but it just wouldn't work. She steered her mind away from this subject and onto another, reaching desperately, blindly, hopelessly back into her mind for something else. But the only thing she could come up with was possibly even more painful. Harry.  
  
That one word, that name, caused the closest thing possible to an actual feeling for Ginevra Weasley. And she hated it. Despised it with all of her being. She wanted more than anything to just get over him. But she couldn't. She didn't have a clue how he felt about her, and pretended that she didn't care at all, even though she actually did. Ginny was one of the only ones that wasn't bothered by Harry's recent, moody behavior. Maybe because she was numb, but probably because she understood. Understood what it was like to just for it all to be over, or at least be alone. Alone for a very long time.

It was this, this invisible connection, that now ultimately attracted Ginny to Harry. Like a fly to the sticky paper that would be its inevitable doom. And Ginny knew this would happen. As blatantly and disgustingly cheesy as it sounded, Harry Potter was the light in the monstrous, dark abyss that surrounded Ginny, smothering her. The hope that he could possibly understand her and pull her out of the gaping, bottomless hole she was falling into was what kept her alive. With this thought, Ginny restlessly rolled to her side, hoping that the aching tiredness she felt would help her go to sleep more quickly for once; and rushed back to the chilling, horrendous nightmares she had every night, every time she closed her eyes.

Many miles away, the subject of Ginny's last thoughts before she went back to her torturous sleep sat up, sweating just as badly as she had been. This person happened to be going through a very similar hell, not realizing his cure was so very close. She was lying in the same house as the closest thing to a real family he had ever had. But both of these humans felt only one main thing.

They felt numb.


	2. Letters and Nightmares

A/N- Thanks so much to my beta, Ailleann.  
  
Harry Potter got out of bed, knowing that it was fruitless to try and go back to sleep. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about or, if there was such a word, nightmaring about. Then again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Though it was over ninety-five degrees and his huge t-shirt and faded plaid pajama bottoms were soaked with sweat, Harry still felt cold. Not in the normal sense. Instead, he felt chilled to the very bone. And that was pretty much all he felt. Numb to all other things. Not that he minded. He was sick of emotions. He was sick of life. Whenever it looked like things were finally going to be okay again, another bomb would hit him, leaving his life in scattered, broken-up pieces and jagged fragments for him, the brilliant hero, to pick up all alone. Some of his more pleasant nightmares involved like situations. Ron and Hermione were always standing off to the side, ignoring him.  
  
Strangely, this didn't really bother him that much. It seemed that they weren't really that close anymore anyway. Harry would just put them in danger. It was definitely best for him to push away everyone that cared. After many hours of thinking over the past month about what Dumbledore had said, Harry chose to disagree with Dumbledore saying emotion was a strength. How could emotion be anything but a weakness? Sirius had been the last straw. He wouldn't, wouldn't, let anyone get hurt because of him again.   
  
Harry slowly crept over to the floorboard where he hid his schoolbooks and removed his three-foot long Potions essay on the Torpeo Draught, a potion that coincientally caused the receiver's entire body to feel numb and blank.

------  
  
Ginny groggily got out of bed and set her long, tan feet on the creaky, cold wood floorboards. The penetrating summer sun hadn't come up yet, but instead her room was filled with the eerie darkness of early morning. She walked quietly across her room, put her flowered dressing gown on; and crept out of her room and down the old, rather steep stairs; with each step she painted on the fragile, smiling, carefree mask she wore for the rest of the world. Her parents would surely be up.  
  
These days, her father had to get up earlier and earlier for his hectic job at the Ministry. Since Voldemort's return had been publicly acknowledged, the entire Ministry of Magic had become a building full of "organized" bundles of chaos. Her mother always got up with her father to make him some early breakfast and coffee. With false alarm sightings, occasional disappearances, and people not knowing who to trust, Arthur Weasley was dealing with much more than just the misuse of Muggle artifacts these days.  
  
Sure enough, when she entered the kitchen her father was sitting with his back facing her at their long table and warily sipping his black coffee. Her mother was humming an old hit from the WWN while finishing up a couple of eggs. Mrs. Weasley looked up at her youngest child, surprised to see her up.  
  
"Good morning, Ginny dear. What are you doing up so early?" Her father turned and acknowledged Ginny with a smile that he only gave his daughter. For some reason, this made her very uncomfortable.  
  
"I guess I just couldn't sleep so I decided to come down and say good morning. So, good morning." Ginny gave one of her perfected smiles and made to turn around after deciding that she wanted to be alone and in her room after all. Not knowing where she wanted to be or who she with seemed to be a current problem for her.  
  
"Wait, Ginny. Are you sure you're okay?" her mother called.  
  
Ginny stopped for a second and turned back. "Yeah, I'm fine, Mum. Have a good day, Dad." With that, she ran quietly back up the stairs to her own room, a hidden tower where she could escape from everyone.

--------

About one hour and one foot of parchment later, Harry heard a tap on his window. He got up off of his bed and opened it to find a fluffy owl that immediately began flying over to the desk where Hedwig's cage resided. Harry untied the small scroll on the owl's leg, slightly anxious to see who had sent it. After skimming briefly through the unfamiliar script, he found at the bottom a name he had definitely not expected: Cho.  
  
He looked back at the bird who was now supposedly expecting some sort of treat. It was very pretty, but also looked very delicate, as if the slightest breeze could send it astray. _How very much like Cho_, Harry thought smugly. He got out Hedwig's old treats and cautiously tried to give one to the bird. It turned its beak up, as if the treats weren't good enough and flew (very huffily) out of the window.  
  
Harry looked back at the letter. Skimming over it more slowly this time, he saw that Cho wanted to apologize for her actions at the end of last year. Apparently, she thought they should just forgive and forget and was interested seeing him soon. God, she really is an idiot, he thought, if she thinks that I want to talk to someone who has such a horrible taste in friends that one of them ultimately brought about the Department of Mysteries incident. If it hadn't been for Marietta, Dumbledore still would have been there when Harry had had his vision of Sirius being tortured. 'Wrong, you prat,' a nasty, little voice in the back of his head said. 'It was your fault. All your fault.' He crumpled up the letter and threw it in his cheap, small plastic garbage can that he had salvaged from an alleyway, one of the precious times he was let out the house.  
  
It seemed that his aunt and uncle were none too happy about what had been said to them at King's Cross. As a result, they had been outright refusing to recognize his existence except for, of course, the times they mocked the warning by saying something like: "Oh, I do hope that we're not treating you too horribly, dear Harry." But their fear kept them from doing anything else.  
  
Harry sat back down on his bed and finished up his Potions essay, only somewhat satisfied with it. Along with his O.W.L. scores, the courses he had passed (all but History of Magic and Divination) had sent assigned summer homework. He was already half done. Snape, of course, had given the unfortunate few who got into his N.E.W.T.s class tons of it. Snape. The very thought of him made Harry cringe. But he wasn't really able to feel angry at him anymore. However, Harry did know that he would never be able to forgive the professor. It just wasn't possible.  
  
Disrupting his thoughts, he heard the distinct rustle that was his aunt and uncle getting up. They would let Dudley sleep in as late as he wanted but they always made Harry get up to make them breakfast. Harry quickly changed into some of Dudley's ratty old jeans and another huge t-shirt that advertised some sort of Muggle videogame. Just as he was going to open his door, he heard something hit his window. He turned and saw the twittering ball of fluff named Pigwidgeon zooming around his window outside. Harry sighed and opened the window slowly so he woudn't make too much noise.   
  
He took the surprisingly small roll of parchment from Ron's owl and opened Hedwig's cage so the small bird could rest. Harry was sure that it was the inevitable letter inviting him to the Burrow. Sure enough, he saw Ron's messy writing telling him he'd be taking a safe Portkey with Mr. Weasley, who would Apparate into the backyard, in three days to the Burrow.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate their concern, but it would be a lot harder moping around at the Burrow. He didn't want to ruin anyone's summer. Then again, he didn't want to go around acting like everything was okay when it wasn't. He was so sick of doing that. He wrote out a reply saying he'd be ready and thanking them for their invitation. Looking over at Hedwig's cage, he saw Pig fast asleep. He'd send the letter later.

------  
  
Several hours later, Ginny couldn't deny her hunger any longer. She hesitantly opened her door and crept down the stairs quietly, not wanting any unwanted attention. As she got closer, she heard Ron and her mother talking. As much as she wanted to go back to her room to hide, she couldn't ignore her rumbling stomach. Now she could make out what they were saying, so she stopped to listen.  
  
"I'm sure it'll be good for him, Mum. Trust me."  
  
"I don't know, Ron. It's just so soon. Three days. I'm not sure he's ready yet."  
  
Ginny's brow furrowed as she realized what they were talking about. Harry was going to be here in three days. But that was so soon! The thought echoed wildly through her mind as she realized what this meant. All of last year, she had convinced herself that she didn't like him anymore. That was why she had always been so straightforward. He was just a friend. Even Hermione had been convinced. But during the past month, being holed up in her room for hours on end, she couldn't ignore it any longer. She was infatuated. And now she wouldn't know how to act again. Ginny did not want the butter dish incident to repeat itself. But she was more mature now. Right? Right?  
  
In her desperate state, Ginny did not realize she had forgotten to put on her perky facade. Nor did she comprehend that this was the most emotion she had felt in a long time. She scrambled down the stairs.  
  
"I don't think it's the best idea either, Ron. I mean we all know he's just going to be moping around the whole time. Woudn't he be better off at the Dursleys?" Ginny said anxiously.   
  
"Of course not! At least he'd be with people who cared about him. And I don't know if he could mope around more than you have been. What's wrong with you? Did you and Dean break up or something?" Ron replied, his ears beginning to turn pink.   
  
_ Damn_, Ginny though. If dense Ron had noticed it, then everyone else surely had too. But it was a good question. Why was she so, well, depressed? Maybe all the excluding she had received over the years had finally got to her. Of course, it didn't help that she was the only daughter. Thinking back to the last thing Ron had said, she laughed bitterly.  
  
"You ignorant twit. I just said the thing about Dean to get on your nerves. Apparently it worked." She turned around and began walking up the stairs quite quickly. She heard her mother make a noise of disbelief. Ron rushed up the stairs after her.  
  
"Oh Ginny, I thought you might like to know that I already sent the invitation for Harry to come stay for the rest of the summer," Ron said, smirking as he kept climbing up the stairs to his room. Ginny tore open the door to her room, her hunger forgotten. This would definitely be a summer to remember.


End file.
